Cancer
by Getsuga TENSHOU 15
Summary: AU: Orihime Inoue is a cancer patient, running away from home, due to the pain of her medication. She soon runs into a despicable gang of youths, and becomes forcefully attached to their group after revealing some information about her identity. Practically every character is OOC, and Rated M for future chapters. Sex, gore, language. You get the drill.
1. Chapter 1

Turn away,  
If you could get me a drink  
Of water 'cause my lips are chapped and faded  
Call my Aunt Marie  
Help her gather all my things  
And bury me in all my favourite colours,  
My sisters and my brothers, still,  
I will not kiss you,  
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you.

Now turn away,  
'Cause I'm awful just to see  
'Cause all my hairs abandoned all my body,  
Oh, my agony,  
Know that I will never marry,  
Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo  
But counting down the days to go  
It just ain't living  
And I just hope you know

That if you say (if you say)  
Goodbye today (goodbye today)  
I'd ask you to be true (cause I'd ask you to be true)  
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you  
'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you

Orihime Inoue squinted her dull gray doe gaze, lost in an unbreakable daze as she glimpsed through the glass panes; the harsh pitter-patter ricocheted against the windows, the stray pellets refracting from the surface like a projectile against a sheet of bulletproof glass. Each liquid shrapnel threatened to shatter the pane with the dense mass, as crystal shards began to scutter in a scattered trance, taking up the visage of hailstone. The storm was miserably vigorous, as though determined to obliterate the entire nation's moods, to abolish all things good in Japan. The lightning flashed against the ironically dim incandescent canvas, as the moon lurked high in the sky, as the billowing storm clouds shielded the country from the de rigueur light source, casting shadows of iniquity everywhere she glimpsed. She counted the seconds, a futile form of entertainment, devised only to distract her from her paranoid state, before the thunder cracked throughout the raucous air, rupturing the sky into a mass of minute shards. Nightfall had never looked so sinister.

Orihime wasn't even sure where she was headed, as she studied the mass blur of greenery and woodlands whiz by in an eager pursuit, causing time to hasten by the second, lighting a trace of joy in her mind; her ears pinned back as the steady beat of the train's rhythmic clickety-clack overwhelmed the dismal tempest, her knees drawn up against her chest as her breaths became shallow, her heart building up enough momentum to escape it's hollow imprisonment. A beam of moonlight began to crack from behind the trees, blazing a beacon of hope for the young runaway, as she shifted her gaze, catching a glimpse of her ghostly reflection in the glass pane before her.

Her platinum eyes shadowed a thousand years of anguished heartache, her malaised state slitting scars across her soul with her martyrdom; she was a mere 17 years old, a young woman barely an adult, escaping the angst veiling her previous life in Karakura Town; despite her young age, she had the image of an older citizen, her scars inflicting much distortion to her once flawless features. The innocent gaze she once loved was now varnished with a distinct trait of fear, the paranoia of whom might be watching her and when capturing her callous vessel in a bed of strident flames; the lashes themselves scattered across the ground each time she blinked, causing the red-ringed daze to look all the more bare, struck with a rouged bloodshot effect across her once pearl white sclera. Her once burning hair became absent from her singed scalp, not a single auburn lock remaining cascading from her throbbing skull. All these wounds were the scars she donned under duress, due to her Cancer treatments from over the past year.

The Chemotherapy she had been put through had taken her to Hell and back, as the venom surged through her veins, exploding a mass of heated flares to spread like a virus, engulfing her nerves into a glaring inferno. The scattered embers inflicted pain far worse than she could ever have imagined, drawing out harsh screams each time she caught a glimpse of the dreaded white coats congregating around her barely conscious body. She couldn't take it. Having to lose all of her beauty, the sole features she held all her confidence on, on the off-chance that she might survive, a mere 37% possibility that she would live, it just wasn't enough of a trade to bear. She knew in her heart that she would rather die than face another round of treatment. Her friends insisted that she was over-reacting, but what the hell did they know? Did they have the sadists pumping the toxic into their bodies? Did they sate each day pondering the chances of living another day? Did they have tornadoes brewing inside of their bodies, rupturing and shattering all of their vital organs upon faint contact? No. She would rather die than face another dose of Chemotherapy.

She stammered sobs against her dry, chapped lips, biting down to quieten her cries, cringing as she drew blood from the slashed wounds engraved on the tenuous flesh. She took the sleeve of her V-neck, staining the fabric with her stinging tears, her heart becoming crestfallen as she saw the final lashes flicker from her barren eyelids. She sat clad in a rushed attire, disorderly and un-coordinated, as she'd shrugged on a blue and white pin-striped shirt, with long sleeves and three diamond buttons at the neckline, and a pair of baggy jeans, paired with Converse, so that wherever the train stopped, she was well-equipped for long-distance running. She clutched on to a pale blue rucksack, containing her asthma inhaler, a borrowed baseball cap and a patterned hooded sweatshirt, just in case she had to hide her identity, which at some point, she knew she probably would have to.

She shifted her gaze away, refusing to look at the unattractive imposter, glancing up startled to find a sulking train inspector, barking at her for what had to be the hundredth time, holding out his palm to see her ticket. She gulped, sensing a storm heavier than the one outside arousing within the train carriage; she couldn't admit that she'd jumped fares; she'd have to play along, as she put her infirm acting skills to good use. She feigned searching through her rucksack for her non-existent purse, holding her head low so that he would not recognize any vital features, her brows creasing in an anxious manner; she imitated a stunned gasp, her hands trembling as she hid her gaze from the distempered man.

"I... I'm terribly sorry, Sir; I must have dropped it..."  
"Tough, you'll have to pay for another one, or you'll be thrown off." She glimpsed out of the window, studying the tumultuous weather reaching turbulent levels, as the gods raged with a merciless wrath, violent gales blasting across the fragile trees.  
"Please... I don't have any more money, and it's simply inhumane to kick me off into this weather." She met his narrowed gaze, her puppy dog pupils begging for him to show some sort of compassion or mercy on her grieving soul.  
"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave at the next stop."  
"Please..."  
"If you're unwilling to co-operate, then I will have no other option but to call the police, and report you for refusing to pay fares."

She ducked her head in shame, biting her lip under the pressure; she couldn't let herself be arrested. The police surely knew she was missing by now. If the police found her, they'd take her back to the hospital to continue her so-called _treatment_. She shook her head, determined to continue her journey, determined to escape from the medical torture, or die trying. Ever-so-slightly, she nodded, her bruised lips shadowing a faint trace of a sorry smile, uttering an apology as she shifted her gaze away towards the outdoor scenery.

"When's the next stop?" In the reflection of the glass, she saw the inspector check his wristwatch, before giving his reply.  
"5 minutes, Ma'am. I'll be waiting here until then to make sure you get off." She nodded, blanking reality with a disjointed hum, a commiserable attempt to amplify the remnants of happiness she had left in her cold heart. She became lost in a trance, her eyes following the trees as they swept by in a blur, clutching her bag closer to her heart as her hoarse throat crooned a nursery rhyme, as though forcing herself to appear mentally stable. In reality, she knew the truth.

The train soon came to a sudden halt, jolting her body forward with a droning screech, the sound of the steel wheels straining against the railway track, igniting sparks under the buoyant train.  
"Your stop, ma'am. Next time, don't lose your ticket." She rose with a sense of despair leaking into the atmosphere, as she made a swift exit onto the platform, keeping her head ducked low, raising her gaze fractionally for the womens' toilets. She didn't once glance up to check where she was, but she hoped it was somewhere regions away from Karakura Town. She pushed through the blithely chattering crowds, mostly built up of people her own age, as she stretched her hand out to open the door, cursing as the harsh shove sent tingles of pain back up her wrist; she frowned, attempting again to open it, finding the door to be locked, a wave of panic rising in her heart. She shifted her gaze across to the right, finding a man step out of the adjacent door, whistling freely. She lowered her head, smiling weakly as his attention became caught on her, stepping forward as his towering figure shadowed over her stunted height, as she gulped, a surge of consternation flooding through her._ Shit… does he recognise me from somewhere?_

"If you're desperate sweetheart, there's no one in the Mens', and I can keep watch to make sure no one goes in." She tilted her head, confounded by his words, before realization hit her, nodding and playing along with his kind, albeit slightly perverse, gesture.  
"Thank you, Tabibito-san!" He chuckled softly, running his hand through his slick chestnut hair, unfolding a newspaper from under his arm. She took a glimpse at his attire, noting the black suit to be comparable to that of a business suit, or possibly a funeral outfit, as she tore her gaze away, unwilling to pry into his personal life.  
"Please, call me Hashigawa."

Orihime flushed at his boldness, before shaking her head, rushing into the mens' toilets in hope that the citizens were too busy sucked into their own worlds, so that they wouldn't notice. She froze upon entering, holding her breath against the putrid stench arousing from within commode, glancing around at the stale features of the so-called _rest_room. Above her head, a droning light flickered on and off, attracting all sorts of insects to the alluring rays, casting an unearthly yellow glow across the off-white tiling and pasty walls. The jaundiced wallpaper was peeling away from the plastered walls, with flies buzzing around the cubicles, vast cultures of mould rising against the wall parallel to her.

A row of urinals were positioned against the wall, directly next to the door, and appeared to be the only features clean, with a faint smell of bleach rising into the air. The sinks were located to her right, as the broken enamel had graffiti engraved into the basins, the soap containers empty, with used tissues blocking the plugholes in each one. Spray painted murals adorned the mildew growing near the hand-dryers, depicting what appeared to be an anime man, performing vulgar actions with his hands; she scowled, forcing herself to admit the art work at least was pretty well drawn, but all other aspects of the lavatories were simply unhygienic and nauseating.

Dusty mirrors were positioned above the washbasins, the middle one cracked, whereas the other two were stained with a questionable brown smear splodged across the glass. She sighed, taking her luck with the middle mirror, unwilling to get any closer to another person's excretion than necessary. She tip-toed across the damp tiled flooring, wincing as her black Converse stepped in something dubious, as she positioned herself in front of the fissured mirror, tearing her gaze away as she caught a glimpse of her fragmented visage; she retrieved her inhaler, shaking it in a timorous grasp, before holding it to her pouted lips, sucking in a deep, and well craved, breath, preparing herself to equip her virtuoso camouflage.

She tugged the black sweatshirt over her torso, struggling when it came to her Everest breasts, yanking it down as it covered her chest snugly; the white brick pattern tilted across the plane of her chest, with the words _"Oops, a memory"_ splattered across it in a blood sprayed effect, the scarlet font burning strong against the gloomier colours. It wasn't her typical choice for clothing, but in desperation, she had asked her old male friend to leave it behind whilst she was in hospital, claiming that she wanted something of his to die beside, should the occasion come to it; she was certain his clothes would be spacious enough for her hefty chest, a prediction she had been right about, as it concealed her sole remaining feminine feature from the naked eye, allowing her to take on the form of a man. Although she hated the thought of lying to her dear childhood friend, if she was well enough to run away successfully, to escape the hospital with not a single glance at the obvious fugitived patient, then she didn't need the medical attention, or the help. She was getting on just fine as it was.

She tugged on the baseball cap over her bare head, pausing as she began to tuck her strand of hair in, before remembering she didn't have any to hide; frowning despondently, she flicked her hood up over her cap with a simple motion, masking her face with the sly shadows veiling her upper face, leaving her lips the remaining visible facial trait. An astute smirk plastered across her lips, as liberty became all the more within her reach, with each moment gazing at the stranger before her. Freedom would soon be hers.

She took a few moments to prepare herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet in a masculine manner, deepening her voice into a burly tone, bulking her shoulders up once satisfied. She slung the backpack over one shoulder, grasping onto the strap with a virile hand, lifting her head as a pack of apparent _men_ entered the toilets, hollering and bellowing in a drunken manner, all three men reeking of cheap alcohol as they took their positions at the urinals, their words slurred as though talking a different language. Their incoherent conversation caught her eye, as she frowned, remembering how that Hashigawa man had said he'd keep watch. Was he really one of those perverts? Was he just going to let her go in to the toilets, and let all sorts of men walk in? She scowled under her hood, keeping her masculinity from waning under her perplexity, as she lingered in the background, certain that if she kept still, they wouldn't notice her presence. She took a moment to study all three men in turn, listening in to their babbling, drunken states spout unintelligent, idiotic crap.

"Ichigo, man! Seriously, when are you gunna get laid, dude?" Her eyes grew at the infancy of the man's voice, her mind certain that he couldn't have been any older than her, what with his high-pitched voice. "I mean, c'mon, just take that Chizuru, for example. I've done her! She's easy!" He turned partially, giving Orihime a peek into his image, noting his tanned baby-face, definitely certain that he must have been 14, maximum. His medium-long dark brown hair flipped outward, into a tousled bob, with bangs covering a fraction of his forehead, and slim brown eyes. He stood clad in what she assumed to have once been a plain white t-shirt, now swathed with a tint of brown, as though he'd spilt a drink, and a pair of baggy jeans, sneakers, and a bright blue hoodie.

"Heh… Nice try, Keigo; man, pretty sure she has… you know, _alternative_ tastes."  
"Ichigo! Don't embarrass me!"  
"There's only me, you, and Chad, and we all know she's into chicks,"  
"But… but... there's no need to be so blunt about it! Besides, my point still stands! Get a chick, already!"

The man she assumed to be Ichigo turned away from the urinal, finishing his duty as he took out a cigarette from his pocket, igniting it with a flame-patterned lighter. She stood glued to her spot, her hidden eyes tracking his movements, absorbing his distempered scowls as his irate gaze locked onto her presence. In comparison to his friend, his voice was rough and strident, reflecting his flamed spikes of hair forming around his skull in a mane like fashion; his eyes were a deep chocolate, mirroring what appeared to be a rebellious passion, revolting against anything in his path. The inclement stink of musk shadowed the air, a mix of tobacco and an extra ingredient, as he took a drag, flicking the ashes from the tip of the joint. He spat against the ground, pacing around similarly to a wolf on the hunt. His tightly-fit clothing hugged his body, as his black shirt had a white horizontal stripe cutting across the breast bone, as a peculiar design adorned his muscled torso: a white skull of some sort, with golden irises and black sclera gleaming from behind its masque, and nine crimson stripes adorning the skull in various places. His acid-stained skinny jeans embraced his legs, finishing off his tall, lanky build with a pair of black Converse, identical to the pair she wore. Over his admittedly unsettling shirt design, he donned a black jacket, soaked partially from the outside weather. The other men behind him turned, Keigo pouting at the new face, whereas the taller Hispanic man, who must have been _Chad_, simply gave her a neutral look that read _"You are in so much shit"_.

"Who the hell are you?"  
"O..." She paused, knowing that it would be foolish to give her real name, given that she was now a male. _Dammit, think of something, quickly!_ She feigned her deep voice, letting the words flow from her heart. "Arashi Hisoka."  
"Right; _Secret storm_? Don't tell me you actually thought I'd believe that shit?"  
"Believe whatever you want, _dude_. It's my name. Your name is _Ichigo_. Don't tell me you expect me to believe that, _strawberry_." She gulped silently as she saw the glowered embers on his face, praying to God she could take back her banter.

"Fair play to yer; besides, not like I actually give a shit." He shrugged, turning away as he took another drag, as though surrendering the battle.  
"Then why ask?" She bit her lip, cursing herself for continuing, swallowing her fears as she felt his overwhelming presence shadow over her, a debauched nature corrupting the air around them. He blew out the smoke into her face, causing her to cough in a feminine manner, shattering her disguise in an instant.  
"Because it's none of yer fucking business, short-ass. Now shut it, and get out. Unless yer looking to buy, that is." She bit her lip, shaking her head as she refused to even _think_ about purchasing drugs; besides, she didn't have the money for it, and even if she did, she'd be putting it towards much more beneficial requirements.

"Then get out."  
"W-wait!"  
"What?"  
"Where… where is this?"  
"Gents, why where the fuck d'you think you are?"  
"I meant…. What town, what region?"  
"How do you not know?"

"I…" She gulped, figuring that she should probably just confess; he looked like a criminal, they were definitely not the sort to gas to the police, right? "I'm a runaway. I jumped the train, and I got caught, and thrown off here." A grin plastered over his face, as he whacked her on the back with a rough yet ironically friendly shove.

"Am I right to guess your name _was_ fake, then?" She remained silent, holding her head low as she kept eye contact on her shoes. "And the reason why you're hiding your face, and doing a crappy impersonation of a deep voice?" She bit her lip, fidgeting in his presence, cursing herself silently as a whimper escaped her system, revealing her gender to the group instantly, with the mere pitch of her voice. Ichigo grinned, his hand edging to tug down her hood, as she snapped to attention, shoving him away as she convulsed her body away from his touch.

"Don't look at me!" The stammers in her voice were clear, as her tone returned to its typical, naïve self, her clumsy hands struggling to tighten the drawstrings placed at the bottom of her hood; her vision became blocked, as she turned blind from the fabrics shielding her eyes, waves of panic crashing over her through slick sobs filling the air. "I said don't look at me… I can't even look at myself…" Her breathing turned hollow under her makeshift visor causing her sightless state, holding out her weak arms to push him away, in case he came close to her. "I… I…" Her arms felt limp as she scrambled around in her rucksack, searching for her inhaler with her hands, clutching onto it with a strident grasp. She shook it in the air, whining as she felt it vanish from her hands, as Ichigo swiped it from her hold, studying the name label adorned across the body.

"Ple… Please… God… I… I need that…"  
"_Orihime Inoue_, nice to meet you."  
"No… Please… Give it… n'uh… give it back…"  
"Show us your face, and we'll hand it back."  
"No… no…"  
"Why? Surely you can't be _that_ ugly." He grinned at his taunts, watching the _woman_ before him struggle against the grimy floor.  
"I… I… Cancer… I… No…"

He froze for a moment, kneeling before her as a wave of tenderness swept over him.  
"You're that chick with cancer that ran away from the hospital, right?"  
"I… I… Gimme…" He nodded, pushing it into her eager grasp, her hyperventilation spiking her pulse to dangerous levels with each moment that passed by. She shook it once more, taking another inhale, slowing her huffs down as she began to arrange the words in her head.  
"Yeah… I am…"  
"The hell did you do that for? You're crazy, you'll die out here."  
"That's… that's sort of the point…" She bit her lips, taking another gasp of air to fill her lungs. "The medication was hell; they swore it wouldn't hurt…" He rolled his eyes, helping her stand slowly, untightening the drawstrings around her throat, much to her dismay.

"Relax, I won't look. You're insane, though. You should be back in hospital."  
"Don't send me back… please; don't send me back to that hell!"  
"Shit, chill out, I'm not doing owt. You should turn yourself in though. Everyone's going mental about you."  
"I don't care… I'm not going back there."  
"Tch, whatever, what do I care? What are you planning to do out here, anyway?"  
"Run."  
"Where?"  
"Anywhere."  
"Some plan you got there."  
"I don't need your input; leave me alone," She pushed past him, wiping the dust from her as she placed her hand on the door handle. "I made it this far, didn't I?" She pressed down on the handle, trudging towards the doorway with her head held low.

"Be a shame, though." She paused, pivoting on her heels as she met his gaze behind her veiled eyes.  
"Shame?"  
"Since you're so insistent that you're in such good health, we could use a _guy_ like you."  
"What…?" She watched him finish the joint, flicking it to the ground as he stamped the flame out with a gentle trod of his heel.  
"We know something about you, something you probably don't want getting out?" She gulped at his implications, unwilling to think on just what the hell she'd got herself into.  
"What do you want?"

His smirk stretched across his face, darker than nightfall, laced with more malevolence than she had ever seen in one man, a complete personality change compared to the gentle side she'd hoped to leave with. She didn't know where she's heard his name before, and she still didn't know where she was, how far away she was from her so-called _home_, but she knew one thing for sure: there was no way he was going to go easy on her. Not in a million years.

_Shit._

A/N: Hello :3 this may be a little confusing, but I promise it will sort itself out in the end. Anywho, lyrics are of course _Cancer_ by _My Chemical Romance_. Enjoy mah friends! Reviews much appreciated c: Tabibito = Traveler, stranger, or tourist, so yeah, Orihime said "Mister Stranger"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This story will be highly inaccurate, but please, imagine this is a world where not one single person has a fricking clue what logic is. Wait, isn't that anime in general? ...Terribly sorry for the prolonged updates, but I lost my spark for a little bit; huge amount of thanks are in order, especially to Vodka 21, Shark Spartan, and DeathBerry1995. Reviews make me so happy, y'know T_T May be confusing, it's a flashback, so it starts in the present, and goes back to reflect on how she'd gotten herself in this situation of which will not be mentioned for many chapters :) (way to hold you all in suspense)

'What the fuck am I doing here?'

The words swam around her mind similarly to a shark catching glimpse of its prey, swirling in vicious cycles through the acidic liquid shrouding her in the form of hailstone, ensnaring her flesh like daggers as she felt her body become all the more limp through the slick pellets soaking her attire, her dazed mind peering into the distance whilst she awaited her signal. Her palms were moist, needless to say, sweat enveloping her skin as her body shivered dramatically, with both fear and the irrefutable results of her frozen environments; she stood erect, her back straight as her heart constricted deep within her chest, loitering against the dark empty streets as her pouted lips escaped the occasional irregular breath, her lungs struggling to support her mission as she felt the frequent need to pass out against the cold, damp concrete path, which ironically looked a whole lot more comfortable than those god forsaken hospital beds. Her stomach shifted a simple inch beneath the heavy layers, causing her to splutter silently, lurching forward as she felt a thousand shadows of pain cast over her, her guilt rising within her tightened throat, veiling her consciences within, her tenacity slowly turning evanescent under the dying spotlights holstered in the ground around her.

Her trepidation took full control of her limp mind, her meek body slouched against the wall stationed before her, her hollow breaths faltering as she unwillingly reminisced back at the previous events, shadowing her features as she frowned against the pained memories of the past six months; her mentor, or owner, as that sadistic bastard liked to be referred as, had been Ichigo Kurosaki, scum of the criminal underworld, aged a mere 17 years old, with an overwhelming experience of the felonious nature, surpassing the connoisseurs of the industry with what she could only hope to be an overexaggerated ease. She'd heard a lifetime of rumours over the past months, surely enough to compensate for the relentless fractions of her sanity, wild whispers slithering through the deplorably shaded streets, as the truth became illuminated by the flickering dim lights of the barely functioning street-lamps, tales of the violent nature, spreading with incomparable speed to a wildfire, brewing within the young lawbreaker, one that snapped out at the worse times possible, according to urban legend.

She'd seen a mixed twist of his personality to be satisfied for now of her safety, watching him lose his temper over trivial matters such as losing a game of poker, standing by as her feminime gaze observed a new table each week have a backstreet amputation, losing a leg or two, before the pattern of flames casted a golden light over the lower part of her jaw, her stunned daze growing used to him drizzling petrol over the unfortunate furniture, igniting the fuel with his vicious ire; when compared to his noble nature, his compassionate alter ego, cradling her in his feverent embrace, repeating the words that shot like a bullet through her temple, it almost seemed as if he'd grown an extra personality for the sake of his reputation.

She'd swiftly learnt that the only reason why he hesitated in hurting her before was because of his own losses, as he'd dragged her aside from the group to explain so that she could gain an insight into his position. After learning his story, she'd felt saddened, crestfallen upon hearing his drastic misfortune, but she felt all the more reassured that she was on the right track, determined to escape her torture with a tight, eager grip with both hands at the ready. Having watched his own mother slowly drift into a blissful state of eternal peace after a year-long battle with Cancer, a deserved sense of tranquility aroused within the younger version of him, as his infant eyes watched her once animated irises fade to black, the cherishing honey glaze losing all sense of life with a faint flicker, as the gods snuffed out the candle keeping her soul at bay, freeing her from the chains bounding her to Earth whilst her body lay in the hospital bed, a simple hollow, meaningless shell.

He was only young, how young, however, he hadn't stated, refused to state, almost, as his expressions clouded over with a strict slash, his domineering aura all but choking her with a toxic gas cloud rupturing her lungs as he poisoned the atmosphere, warning her to know her place. For a singular split second, her soul lingering in the past, her body felt light as though she was being absorbed into the vivid image, the reawakening events replayed before her very eyes as if to taunt her; there she stood, the obsolete version of her, lurking away in the run-down restrooms of Tokyo's deepest abyss, the fire and brimstone blazing feverently across the tube station as the flickering flames ignited from his lighter showered embers over her unearthly glowing face. She'd doubted his story for the split second upon catching glimpse of his acidic-lined gaze, but quickly shook herself from the thoughts as he'd dragged her by her frail, colourless forearms, forcing her onto the train awaiting them at the platform, causing panic to rise in her heart, as she considered the worst case scenario- was he sending her back? After pouring his evidently Nitrogenic frozen heart out to her, was he just going to leave her to her death?

Her fears soon settled as she turned partially, finding him following suite after, with a sly glance around the train carriage, concealing his hands within his jacket pockets as he whistled once satisfied, shifting his head from side to side as the flamed spikes wept unnatural tears from the thorned edges, an action she found almost alluring as she stared intently at the man before her. He'd merely lifted his gaze an inch, meeting hers as a simple glance imprisoned her pounding heart, her pulse spiking as her concealed eyes swept across the smirk curving over his previosuly scowled lips, her hands tightened around her bag, quivering in her place similarly to a schoolgirl infatuated by a childhood crush. The moment was soon shattered beyond repair as his hand lunged out, pushing her back against a seat, catching a few glares in his direction, all deteriorating upon catching sight of the flames descending from the abuser's skull; she backed up against the corner, an action she swiftly came to regret, nudging her elbow backwards with a sharp motion, cursing loudly as her humorous collided against a cheap plastic table, rubbing her joint as her strained grasp left her rucksack, which lay disorderly slung over the adjoining seat.

She watched him take his place opposite her, lifting his sneakers against the table as he evidently blanked a "Please Do Not Place Your Feet On Our Seats" sign positioned a mere inches away from his arm, drawing her legs under the table as she'd prepared her throat for a deepened re-vamp.

"You don't like to conform to rules much, do you?"

"Tch, like you're one to talk," He averted his gaze to a sign hidden by her baggy sleeves, watching her shift in her seat, scowling at a "No Hoodies or Baseball Caps Allowed" sign holstered against the wall of the train, demonstrated with black silloheutes and a bold red circle with a line crossing through diagonally. "I broke one rule, you broke two. Let's call it quits,"

She pouted her lips to argue her case, leaving her mouth agape in a small, circular shape as her hidden brows furrowed to protest, mere seconds before her heart bounded from her chest, startled as a stumbling Keigo tripped over the step, resulting in what she could only deduce to be a painful wound in the morning once he'd sobered up, watching him weep in a shamefully emasculate manner, blubbering against the disgustingly hazardous carpeted floor as he whined on about something she couldn't quite place her finger on. The unintelligent slurs had reeked of distraught, as she lifted her head towards the tall Hispanic huffing heavily, stepping over the anguished man as he took a seat next to his red-head companion, opening his mouth for what she was certain had to be the first time throughout that entire night, extending his hand over the table in a business type style, as though he'd inherited mafia genes.

"Sado Yasutora," He introduced himself in a husky tone, solemn, almost, as though the gift of speaking was some sort of a burden to him. She absorbed her surroundings, making sure to keep up the act of a young male to ensure her escape from her old life, responding swiftly with her makeshift name.

"Arashi Hisoka," She swept the sleeves over her hand, scrunching her nose as she was certain that none of the three had washed their hands, shuddering away at the nightmarish thought of the imminent germs travelling into her lungs by breathing the same air as these delinquents alone; he grasped hold of her hand in a tighter clutch than she'd expected, shaking violently as though he'd made no attempt to restrain himself from fracturing her feeble bones, her mind flinching against the scoff deriving from the corner opposite her.

"You are not keeping that name, I'm telling you that now; when we get back, I'll sort you out with an actual name, a decent one that people will actual believe," She lowered her head, crestfallen by her ambience shattered by the sheer brute words spoken from his rebellious lips, her heart unwilling to think further on the implications behind the list of favours he was building up in his mind; she muttered a silent apology, dropping her masculine act as her voice returned to normal, shifting her gaze across the carriage to steal a glimpse at her reflection.

upon hearing a commotion, finding an apparently recovered Keigo sidling in to a booth opposite two women clad in full black, each wearing a differently designed hat with some sort of a netted veil crossing over a portion of their heavily made up faces.

She felt smirks burn against the very nape of her neck, turning swiftly as she found Sado shaking his head, massaging his temples disgruntedly with the forefingers of each hand, whereas Ichigo had slouched forward, using a pen-knife to carve a design of some sort against the budget-cost table. The symbol consisted of a hollow ring accompanied with a bold 'K' slashed through its orbiting axis, swiping his hand away as he showcased his piece of art proudly; a small fraction of her mind had pondered at the passed moment whether or not that crude drawing from the gentlemens' toilets had been drawn by him. She wasn't one to judge, but he did seem like the type to vandalize artistically, after all.

"Entertainment of the finest form; watch closely, if I were you," She turned her head back to the chaos, listening intently to the cause of the ado, frowning at the words stemming from the limping adolescent acting tough for the sake of the ladies. His face had washed over with a strange emotion, something similar to compassion, but with hidden motives laced under the thread-like layers, as the blonde buxom lady on the far right dabbed against the corner of her eye with a soft handkerchief clutched in a quivering dainty hand, bold black vines of mascara leaking from the tips of her lashes while she began smiling faintly at this man's supposed generosity. Her friend had her arm wrapped around her, hushing her softly with her tender, soothing voice, certain that given their dark attires and sobbing, that they had recently attended a funeral... Shit, what's going on?

"Hey, hey, shhh... There's no need to cry..."

"And so it begins," She heard Ichigo's husky chuckle resound from behind her, as she blanked his disruptions, concentrating on the scene before her.

"I wish I was one of your beautifully crafted tears, so that I could be born in your eye, run down your cheeks, and die... Right here... On your lips." His brows were creased in a heartfelt desire, his fingers beginning to trace her ruby stained lips, delicately sweeping his adoring gaze across her flaring skin, as she sat upright, humiliated through the sheer cheek of the teenager before her. "What's wrong? You're looking a little sad and gloomy. What you need is some vitamin me."

Orihime groaned, fully aware of what was going on, casting a thousand spells against the insolent boy, shrouding over him with a harsher force than the murkiest storm clouds; she watched as the woman's companion scowled, tutting as she brought her friend closer, shoving his hands away from her face as she allowed her to wail loudly against her barely existent chest.

"Do you mind?! Our brother recently died! The last thing she bloody wants is a child trying to get her into bed!" Ouch... Keigo held his hands up in the form of a surrender, shrugging the rejection off casually with his cool demeanor, racking his brains for a comeback suitable for the situation.

"You might not be the best looking girl here, but I'm the only guy here talking to you, and beauty is only a light-switch-a-way." He clicked his tongue, forming an apparently suave accent on the final words, shooting invisible bullets from his hand, as though stealing Cupid's role with a modernized replica. "So hey, whenever you want a man friend, come talk to me, baby," He snuck away from the bawling woman, striding arrogantly over to his friends as he collapsed against the seat next to Orihime, causing her to whimper and scuttle over at the sudden proximity of his hand wrapping itself around her bruised shoulders.

"How many failures is that now, Keigo?" Ichigo had raised his eyebrows, just in time as the conductor stepped on board the train, doing his casual call of tickets across the carriage as they began to shift into motion; Orihime froze at it being the same man who'd thrown her off the previous train, sinking into her seat as she shrugged her face away, praying for salvation from this torture. The man took one glimpse in Ichigo's direction, before casting his gaze swiftly away, stuttering and moving on as though intimidated by his sheer presence; Keigo shrugged, flipping his phone out of his hoodie pocket as he began texting what she could only assume to be more women, as his thumb clumsily struck odd keys in a random order.

"What can I say, Ichigo? At least I'm trying to get laid; yet another hot babe misses out on the Asano-tron," She frowned at the kid's apparent lack of respect for women, biting her lip as she felt his free hand slide down her shoulder, edging closer towards her chest, groping her harshly with deep nails finding nothing but layers of fabric. He sniffed against the air, smirking in victory as his phone buzzed, his inebriated pleasure soon perishing as his sunken expressions reflected yet another declined request arousing from the unfortunate victim. He cursed, slinging his phone away to the side-pocket before cutting the distance between himself and the terrified girl stationed by his side.

"Hey, if your left leg was Thanksgiving and your right leg was Christmas, can I visit you inbetween the holidays?" Her lips quivered at his sudden request, as a shattered mirror full of shame showered over her, spreading scattered shards of glass in a disorderly manner. His blunt personality told her plenty about this child, as she'd found herself not desiring to see any more of his disgusting manners.

"No, you most certainly may not," Her stuttered reply came with faults, as she watched him smirk at her uncertainty, burying his grip deeper until he found the warm pulsing orbs of flesh he'd forever desired.

"I just want to be loved- is that so wrong?"

"Keigo, I know you're drunk and all, but really? Touching up a dude?" Orihime breathed a silent sigh of relief, cursing herself silently for allowing her salvation to stem from the man whom she could only think held all the power in the world to manipulate her life with his blackmailing techniques.

"Huh? What are you t-"

"Man, I didn't think you'd take rejection that seriously; a few denials from the chicks, and you're all ready to take up your chances with men? Your choice, dude, I'm not judging you, just don't do it that open, or you'll end up affecting our reputation," She smiled weakly, nodding her head as she mouthed a word of thanks, releasing her trapped breaths upon feeling the pressure of his hand deter away from her body, certain that his motives weren't entirely as selfless as they were made out.

"So where are we going?" Her voice piqued through the atmosphere, strained as she retrieved the inhalor from her bag, shaking it against the air before removing the cap and drawing in a deep breath, feeling undeniably better from the intake of Oxygen both her body and lungs oh so desperately needed.

"Home," She spluttered at his simple response, suddenly feeling all the more trapped in her enclosed corner, stuttering as she fell into hysterics, struggling in her seat as she contemplated her surroundings for a way out. "Relax; our home, not yours," He watched her wild gaze flash around the train carriage, certain in his mind that she was suffering from something other than what she'd let on, fighting her psychotic craze back down to the surface with a simple glare. "We're in Tokyo right now, about 30 miles out from where you claim to be from; we're from Osaka, 250 miles or so from Tokyo city square, so you should be getting the escape yer wanting,"

She nodded glumly, accepting defeat in the matter, gazing out into the distant shadows dancing under the scattered bullets reigning from the Heavens, each pirouette spotlighted under the moon lurking high on its canvas, clusters of stars showering specks of stardust down over the Tokyo suburbs. The embers settled against the damp ground, glimmering under the dim street-lamps, as her strained eyes could barely make out the silloheutes, narrowing her daze, squinting towards the darkness, unable to cast her view any further than a few miles, the speed of the train hardly assisting her tainted vision as it was. She felt a sudden burst of warmth within the carriage, cocking her head to the side as she felt her hidden eyebrows rise against the faint flicker stemming from the lighter clutched by his warm, toned hand, as though questioning him silently. He muttered a sarcastic reply through a billowing drag of whatever it was he was smoking, smirking as he found her cough effeminitely, wafting the smoke away with a dainty hand.

"Before yer start, I'm breaking two rules here, so you're losing the race," He took another deep drag as she hovered her gaze over his actions, studying the seconds from the inhale down to the precise moment he parted his lips, bringing the slim paper tube away from his mouth before he offered it around the group. All declined, having had the benefit of the inside knowledge of the types of recipes this man was into, causing her to doubt his ulterior motive when it came to passing it on to her.

"I thought I told you before, I'm not looking to buy,"

"I own you now, you don't buy shit; everything you get from here on is because you're working with me,"

"Working?" Her eyebrows hovered an inch higher, uncertain that was the correct way to phrase a black market dealer. "And furthermore, since when did I agree to you owning me?"

"How many times have I saved your ass, tonight alone?" She bit her lip at the question she knew was posed with a rhetorical nature, but her mind drifted away regardless, counting mentally before offering her answer.

"Think of all the times I'm gonna save your ass in the future, you'll owe me big, the only way to pay for such a huge debt would be for me to own you. That way, I get any favour I want out of you, and you can't say no," His smug attitude caused her to convulse in her place, an invisible vein pulsating against the curve of her forehead, travelling down to her temple, throbbing painfully at the nauseating aura shrouding his realm, threatening to break through to reality. He clearly considered himself as King, whatever the nature of his kingdom was, that was certain, it had to be, what with his arrogant conviction of his outer image, stating his words in such a blunt, brash, conceited way, the way the faint dimples shadowing his lukewarm cheeks curved up with such flawless grace, each camber all the more worthy of a fallen angel's possession; the way she fell through the skies each time he smirked at her through a slick shield of selfishness, oh so fully aware of her erratic discomfort whenever he spoke, was almost as if she was falling for him...

"Look, you gonna smoke some, or what? Don't just leave it to waste," She shook herself from her inner world, her hollow shell the only form of safety and sanity she'd relished in over the past few years of her life; although paper-thin, and easily deteriorated by the simplest of actions from the outside world, it was her haven, in a sense, a place she could go to get a momentary's escape from her tortrous past, allowing her mind to fill up with such vivid images of her childhood, of her dearly departed brother, of her friends whom she knew would be stressing beyond anything right about now. "Hey, you know weed is used as a treatment to Cancer in the States, right?"

She pivoted herself in her seat, the lone treacherous word jumping out from under her skin as she trembled like clay in his hands; she ducked her head through the shallow mists of disgrace, whimpering whilst she fidgeted with her hands, clenching her fists into a compacted embrace, crushing her remorse as she discarded her dignity to the darker depths of her mind, allowing herself to become disillusioned by his clouded sense of allurement. She pushed his hand away from her, trembling as she spoke up.

"Show me, first... Then... I'll take it,"

He grinned at her devised proposition, taking the role of her mentor as he pressed the filter against his parted lips; she tracked the movements with a painstakingly precise attention through fear of making a mistake when it came to her turn. He began calling his instructions with a disjointed voice similar to if he'd been speaking with clenched teeth, as the cylindrical roll shifted, bobbing up and down buoyantly within his mouth with each word.

"Just inhale, hold for a few secs, and release," He performed the steps in order, holding his breath for what Orihime counted to be at least 30 seconds, before pulling away, letting out a husky groan of relief as his nostrils flared outwards, his lips curved as his hand formed a cool demeanor against the air, almost posing as his forefinger tilted forward, dabbing the tip as a shower of ashes settled against the air. "Your go, kid," He reached forward, his cool gaze watching her surprisingly steady hand lurch out, reverting the rolled drug so that the head containing the filter was now pointing in her direction, sulking at the discourteous nerve of her inferior.

"I think you'll find that I'm older than you, you know,"

"Well I'm not the short ass incapable of keeping my mouth shut at every little thing, am I?"

"You're not short, no,"

She glowered up at his towering frame, her narrowed gaze buried under the shadows as she performed a sneered impersonation of his given steps, cringing away for a moment at the dampness of bacteria slithering and crawling their way inside of her mouth, miniscule to the naked eye, but still holding as much fear in her stalling heart as if a dozen spiders were enveloping the canvas in her clutch. She had no clue where this man's mouth had been, not that her pure mind could even hazard a guess or form a short list of possibilities, but unconjured explanations had always seemed to inflict a vaster degree of fear on her logical mind more than most. She knew there wasn't much room for a split second's hesitation in this new life she was gradually becoming sucked into, nor was there room for complaints on the harsh nature of the choices she was having to make; she chewed against her lip, balancing her options through her disorient mind, no longer certain of why it was she'd gone on the run.

She'd rather die than face another round of treatment... But would this count as treatment? Would it even work? She highly doubted the possibilities of pain, as she knew cannabis was used as a calming drug, but there had to be a reason behind its illegality... She sniffed the air around her, pausing as she searched for the source of the disdainful smell, before discovering the stench to be billowing from the hold in her fingers via the form of smoke, forcing her to cough and sweep it away, retching as her stomach lining threatened to rise up against the back of her throat. There was no way it wass strictly illegal simply because of its insufferable aroma... There had to be good reason for it. There just had to be.

"What will it do to me?" He raised his eyebrow as though swiftly losing his patience with her lack of co-operation.

"Look if you're still in your little prissy stuck-up world, then fine, don't take it, but don't waste a decent joint," The words struck harsh, intoxicating her swirling mind as a hurricane swept through, swiping the thought-train from their tracks as though she was sinking through her seat, succumbing to his twisted blackmail.

"Peer pressure?"

"If you see me as a friend, then that's your loss," He spat the word half-heartedly, his toxic gaze studying her recoils from his counterblast.

"I... Just wanted to know if there was any negative side-effects,"

"It numbs pain, lifts you up, makes you feel all chill, nothing more,"

She nodded, drawing in her breath as the flaring tip lit up in response to the sudden contact, wisped smoke filling the moist cavern of her inner mouth, her stained cheeks puffed out as she feigned experience with a sly smile; she held it for a moment, counting the seconds as she felt the burning eyes drawn to her precarious actions, bemused almost, at her unique method of keeping the smoke from escaping her system. She ducked her head, startled as the smoke crept around the insides of her cheeks, embracing the flesh in a slithered attempt of drawing out her moans, coasting around the nerves surrounding her once dentist-perfect carved teeth, now a few shades bleached from the stunning white she'd recently begun to miss; after a mere seconds of torture, the taste began to kick in vigorously, poisoning her tastebuds as she pulled away, coughing violently against the vicious assault slinking across the back of her blemished throat, and forever traumatized plane of her tongue.

"Fuck, how can you stand that?" He slouched back in his seat, running his smoothly tanned hand through the rough spikes, smirking victoriously

"To first timers, it tastes like shit; to regulars, chocolate cake,"

"Are you sure someone's not just told you it was chocolate? That was..." She paused, searching for a reasonable word comparable to the level of disgust coursing through her at a lightning rate; she contemplated taking a drag from her inhalor to counteract the effects, but the thought of infecting her one source of legal medication with the bacteria sweeping through her mouth made her deeply sick to her core, the world sweeping by at a leisurely place.

"You feeling okay?"

"Not great," She wheezed through a stone threshold clutching her throat, shadowing her daze as the inertia overwhelmed the numb pressures rising within her; she grafted her gaze away from her surroundings, her heart spiking against the erratic sentiment slowly building inside of her chest, drifting away to the outside world, unsure of what half of the words he'd previously said actually meant, as she felt herself slipping away, feeling her mind waver, her eyes flickering shut against the strident drowse overwhelming her, as her head became light-weighted; she moaned against the temptation to sleep, swiftly succumbing to the warmth of the table beneath her ashen cheek, as she let out a tender moan, nuzzling the bacteria minefield with her parted lips.

A/N: I do not condemn the use of drugs, nor do I, for the benefit of not getting banned from this site, advise it. Free will, free world, do it if you wish. In Japan, it is seriously looked down on, huge jail sentence if you're caught, but I only know the methods and nicknames and terms from good friends who used to take it. And Family Guy. And from just general knowledge. And internet. So, yeah. It's your choice if you wish to take drugs, just don't blame me for promoting it, or telling you to do it.

Short chapter, but it took me about 3-4 days :/


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